The Reflector
by ThisAccountKillsFascists
Summary: This is another one-shot horror featuring Lapis' mirror, and the prequel to The Mirror. Instead of Lovecraft, this time, I went with Edgar Allen Poe! Lemme know what you think! Rated T for imagery.


**Steven Universe: The Reflector**

In days long past, and sands blown dry, there once was a man with sight in his eye.

He saw through devils and he saw through pain, but there was one thing he could only gaze into in vain.

Along his journey did he stretch his mind, and along the ride came silver and lime, and when all said and done he washed ashore, there was only one thing on his mind, forevermore.

Buddy was a man, short and pudgy, and along his journeys he traveled, his legs taking him to places enchanted, his road set upon by brigands and rabble; it was there that he found it, in the temple of gold, the one lost artifact what would steal his soul. The Reflector, it was certain, was no ordinary device, for it sat upon a pedestal, it seemed like a vice, it called to him with glittering silver handle and style, it called to him weak, and it called to him wild. But upon the mossy stone it sat, unapprehended, and upon it he gazed, his tension was splendid, could he really dare touch such an object, disturb it?

That was when Buddy swore that he heard it.

A whisper so cold it chilled his mind, and the Reflector sat, unupended, in it's prime, as with shaky hand he reached and touched it's solid silver handle, he lifted it, unaware of the crime of his vandal, and in his astonishment did he gaze at it's depths, but inside of it's mystery he found only the visage of a man whom had traveled far and wide, of a man who's pride had just deceived him, for he'd finally found it...

The Reflector watched back, and his mind was confounded.

Buddy knew that this place was no longer sacred, he took it away, he kept it in secret, stashed in his bookbag and secured by a twine, for to lose it would be seen only as crime.

In the night, did he stir, unopposed in his sloth, and heard a calling, and hark did he to the Book of Thoth, the great Reflector of glass and of metal, and go to it he did, his fear not unsettled, his great breath he took as he gazed at the glass, for inside it's depth was madness en masse.

With a sweating brow and a quivering finger he lifted the visage of the Reflector, and lingered did his gaze upon the tales of old and of fire, the darkness within held only deep ire, for what Buddy saw next was a series, a sequence of horrid event none should ever frequent. His mind reeled and shocked, the Reflector found the floor, for in it he'd seen the visage of of horror; incarnate and set upon his soul did it lie, for inside him was a stirring and a voice, it did cry, _do not disown me._

He tried to ignore it, in vain did he wait, the Reflector called to him, casting its bait, inside of his head it no longer sustained an outward image of unassuming disdain, instead it bequeathed him, it goaded him back, for the Reflector, he knew, his attentions did lack. Sleep wouldn't find him, not for days or for weeks, and into the madness he did cast his feet, along trails unblazed in forests of azure his mind would reel and revoke it's displeasure at the fact of his languid and morbid betrayal of his own sanity...

It did linger on the Reflector's tale.

He went back to the palace, the place where he'd found it and into the darkness he crept with his boundless pride and conviction in sureness he waned, the Reflector did follow, coating his brain. Buddy looked upon many a tablet and tapestry, for one such as this did have much history and that's when he found it, the prime of it all; along the wall he did fall when he saw through the fog at his feet and his hat, thick, like milk poured from jugs which curdled too quick.

The glyphs they described of a prophecy foretold as he scouted their meanings, in this very abode was the gem on the back of the Reflector placed, locked and sealed inside there was a face. He'd seen the face, oh the face, the face so beautiful, with pools of silver eye and tears of the cynical, it called to him, called ever so slowly, it crept to his mind, cried _do not disown me._

On legs shaking dear Buddy did flee from the scene of the crime in which the Reflector was made, skirting his mind as his hand found the frame, to his camp he retired and his friends watched in horror as dear Buddy did linger with his mind on the border.

The next day his crew, after a night so restless did take the Reflector, and Buddy, driven by sadness upturned his projector, the slides and the reels of his travels forgotten as he chased the Reflector, his crew drew away, and by the end of the day they did have their say that this object was no longer allowed in their lives, for with it came demons and terror and strife, they redeemed themselves of it by casting it clear, and into the water went Buddy without care, he followed it down to the depths of the ocean, coveting it's jewel with a lustful devotion.

Upon arriving ashore, his boat was long gone, into the ocean it had sailed, moved on, leaving Buddy on this island, this place all alone, and the Reflector did show him it's secrets galore, as Buddy lay there on the shore, he could only find as the sun went down that the light didn't mind and the Reflector still shone. His eyes were sunken, his lips were cracked, he lay in the sand, stretched on his back, and gazed into the face of the sea, as again it told him, _do not disown me._

In it he saw the flames of his lore, burned brightly his camp and his wife and more, his children, his family, his nephew, his niece, melted, twisted, deranged and deceased. They called to him, Buddy, why didn't you leave the Reflector upon its resting place in peace? To him, it mattered not, for to Buddy's eye the Reflector did implore him to say his goodbyes, his family not withstanding the test of time, the Reflector did remove them from his mind, and together they traipsed along down the sand, the Reflector clutched tightly inside his hand, and he stumbled for days, and for miles and miles, to Beach City he went, and collapsed on the isles.

Found him, she did, alone and ragged, dear Pearl examined what shone and glistened, and take the Reflector from him did she, forever to leave him to his insanity.

Stories never mentioned dear Buddy's plight, but some times he'd wander, alone in the night and searching for his prize possession, the Reflector did teach dear Buddy his lesson.

 **[AN: I was convinced to write a second piece on Lapis' mirror, this time featuring Buddy, and lo and behold it's a prequel to the other piece, The Mirror! :D This one is done in the style of Edgar Allen Poe, or at least emulating it as much as I remember how it would feel.]**


End file.
